


Exordia Hogwarts

by CreativeWords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeWords/pseuds/CreativeWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witness the founding of Hogwarts, from the four founders, to their families and children, to those first students who made the experiment of universal magical education a success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_It is not uncommon for my dreams to contain some portent of things yet to come. I am not possessed of a true second sight, but in a mind well-attuned to its powers there is, I feel, a place for sensing that which is not yet tangible or quantifiable. So it was that the sight of a much bewarted hog awaiting me in a familiar field seemed more natural than not in my dreams last night._

_The beast led me from my favourite childhood haunt past a Muggle village and to a great black lake that has seen no touch of man since the Old Ones settled this place. And past the lake the hog continued, on to a cliff, where it suddenly sat itself on its haunches at the very brink. I confess to feeling some apprehension for the beast and drew my wand, the better to be prepared should my intercession prove necessary. But as I watched, the warts on the hog began to grow, transfiguring it to resemble nothing so much as a cairn. I waved my wand at it, but it only grew more stone-like and unresponsive._

_I had no sooner conceived the notion of going for help than I saw three figures approaching - the only three I consider my equals in the isles. Gryffindor produced many spells, striking the hog from this angle or that, but it retained its stone visage. Next came Slytherin, who drew cautiously nearer, feeling the stones, muttering his incantations - my suspicion is that he dared not speak his darker arts in our presence. But even his forbidden knowledge proved ineffectual. Then it was for Hufflepuff to try, but she merely stood, looking at the hog. Her wand came up thrice, but no spell did she attempt. As is so often the case in matters of dreams, I understood her intent without words. If our individual efforts were for naught, then the next course of action must be to try together. The plan was decided, though we hardly knew what spells to cast. We all waved our wands, tracing a symbol of a hog in the air. The creature rose into the air, transfiguring, not into a regular hog once more, but into a building. A structure larger than any I’ve ever seen - a castle grander even than the palaces of the pharaohs. And familiar, a place as known to me as every any home had been._

_Somehow during the transfiguration, we four were able to back away, find ourselves pressed together in a knot by what had become the front gates. Gryffindor no doubt would have called it readiness, but I have no qualms about calling fear by its rightful name. To be sure,_ readiness _had little to do with the way we we all raised our wands to stop the advance of the hog as it trotted from the great doors to the gates - as docile as a pet crup._

_It seemed to quite have done with us, trotting off into the gathering dusk behind us. And as we watched, glow worms rose into the air around us on all sides. Thousands upon thousands of tiny lights floating around us, turning the meadow to a veritable star field. And once again we knew what we must do. Four wands moved in unison, gathering the living lights from the four sides of the meadow. And together we led them forward to the castle. In through the the carved doors and down the wide corridor to a grand hall that would put King Edgar’s to shame, with ceilings vaulted high above the tops of the oldest trees and and windows that let in such glorious light it made the walls glow gold. The glow worms rose to the ceiling, arranging themselves into constellations familiar to the eye. A sense of well-being came over me. This was to be a place of beauty. A place of learning._

_The realization forced me awake. The answer to Helga’s concerns over the paucity of educational opportunities. Godric’s need to martial protectors. Salazar’s laments over the lack of students of the lineage he demands. My own desire to find the more intellectually gifted. There are such collaborations in the East and Rome, but these isles have as yet been too primitive, too tribal to support such things. It is my dearest hope that this endeavour will bring my homeland into this honored tradition._

_The owls have been sent. I await their replies most eagerly._

_Rowena Ravenclaw_


	2. Chapter 1

The field was a milling mass of people. Muggles in the settlements below the high meadow had been puzzled all day by the steady stream of oxcarts and horses and pilgrims on foot who all seemed intent on reaching the isolated spot. Many tried to warn the travelers of the wild beasts, dark woods, and general unholy air that permeated the region, but were inexplicably waved off, given sincere thanks for the directions, and ignored. The people came from the length and breadth of the land, filling the Highland air with a clamor of accents and clans, drawn by the offer none had expected to come from the Four.

They were funneled toward a cluster of tables where several young witches and wizards were attempting to record all the prospective students and organize them into groups, a daunting task considering the vast number and relative youth of the visitors. Constance passed by Helena, who was attempting to take names from an exceptionally excited pair of twins, and grinned.

“Did they expect so many, do you think?”

Helena didn’t look up from the parchment, but blew a strand of black hair out of her eyes. “And that’s Elryc with  ‘y’, is it? Good, good. Next!” She cut her eyes to Constance. “Brighid only knows what they expected. I certainly didn’t think so many would come.”

Constance nodded and raised her hands to get the attention of the group who had just given their names. A few parents nudged their offspring, but for the most part those gathered were too busy craning their necks to catch a glimpse of one of the four masters to notice. She smiled and drew her wand, giving it a flick. A miniature black dragon erupted from the tip and soared over the children’s heads, shooting a tiny spurt of flame. The crowd quieted instantly.

She flicked her wand once more and the dragon flew back to her, settling on her shoulder and nuzzling her hair.

“Now that I have your attention, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Constance Hufflepuff – yes, daughter of Mistress Helga Hufflepuff herself.” Constance paused to allow for the gasps, exchanging an amused glance with Helena. “My mother and the other Masters are pleased to see so many prospective students arrive for today’s tryouts. Remember, if you have magic in you, you’re already accepted as a student, but the Masters want to be certain you’ll be trained by which of them is best suited to your temperament, and their goals. With that in mind –“

“They’re waiting on the next group, Constance.”

The interruption came from a tall man with the beginnings of a red beard on his face. Constance laced her fingers behind her back and stepped slightly to the side, allowing the newcomer to command the group.

“Good day to you, I’m here to take seven of you over to the trials. Helena - names?"

Helena dotted an ‘i’ and looked up the list, “Wymarc, Ranulphus, Beatricis, Emma, Elyas, Galfridus, Nicholas.”

There was a jostling as the seven made their way to the front. The man surveyed them, arms folded across his maroon robe, nodding in approval at Ranulphus’ eager scramble to be first in the line. He leaned down to meet the boy’s eyes.

“Well done. Perhaps you’ll end up in my father’s house. He takes only the bravest wizards and witches, you know.”

These were a motley group, ranging from Elyas, whose broadening face bore the scorch of more than a dozen summers, to Wymarc, an elfish girl who could scarcely be more than 8, yet all of them wore the same bedazzled grin at his words. Murmurs of “Gryffindor” rippled through the crowd. Galfridus and Ranulphus looked up at him with expressions of utter worship.

“You said they were waiting, Godric?” Helena prompted, rolling her eyes skyward as the moment stretched. “Any parents of these students are welcome to observe the trials from the south side of the field.”

The man grinned and motioned the students to follow him. Several parents broke away to cut across the field. Constance muttered, “ _Finite Incantatum_ ,” and the dragon on her shoulder vanished, eliciting a few dismayed exclamations from those still in the crowd.

“Any questions before I take the next lot?”

“Will I be able to do that?” asked a small girl near the front, pointing at the empty space on Constance’s shoulder.

“That, and much more,” Constance promised. “Helena, who is next?”

“Agneta, Hugo, Willelmus, Isolda, Sarra, Christiana, and Stefanus.”

The seven pushed their way to the front, and Constance gestured them to follow her. From the edge of the field, they walked around the fringe toward the trial area. It was set up like a tournament of knights, with a dais for observing the competition in front of them. Four chairs stood upon the dais, and the children craned their necks, trying to discern who filled them, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the four most powerful practitioners in the isles. Constance didn’t discourage them, but continued to shepherd them forward, giving Hugo a slight nudge as he fell back from the group, eyes still on the masters.

A section of the field had been turned into a hedge maze, and the puffs of colored smoke arising from the area, combined with a sudden shriek, did little to put the prospectives at their ease. Sarra, a tall, thin girl whose robe was a bit over-long, jogged to match pace with Constance as she retook the lead.

“What exactly is it we’ll be doing?”

Constance kept walking, nodding at the dais. “The Masters created a trial to determine which students will be under their tutelage.”

“But can’t they just meet us as they used to do with apprentices?”

Isolda caught up to Constance’s other side and gave an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse her. Sarra’s been asking questions since the day she was born, or so her mother says.”

Constance smiled. “I have a friend who is just the same. And the answer, Sarra, is no. Not now that they’ve invited all of Wizardkind to be taught here.” She stopped by the hedge and held up a hand to halt the group. “This way, they can see you in action. See what you’re really made of. They agreed it was the only way to be sure.”

Stefanus, one of the older boys, crossed his arms. “See us in action? But some of us aren’t familiar with –“

“With wandwork?” Constance finished. “Not to worry, they said it will be fair to the Muggleborns.”

“I’m not a Muggleborn,” Stefanus corrected, glancing around at the others. Willelmus and Agneta had already taken a step back. “My mother is a witch, but my father doesn’t know it. I’ve known I’ve got magic for years now, but I have only just got a wand. And I can’t be the only one. Some of the people I met on the roads had children who looked scarce older enough to be out of diapers.”

“The trial will be fair. Believe me, if my mother agreed to it, it’s as fair as the day is long.”

There was a burst of applause from the south end of the field. A three puffs of purple smoke floated over the hedge, and an opening appeared in the branches in front of them.

“There we go. Wands out, and you seven can go in,” Constance said, stepping aside from the entrance.

Hugo, the shortest of the boys, dashed forward without waiting for the rest of them, though Willelmus was only a half-step behind. Sarra stepped forward, but stopped, letting Agneta and Christiana pass her. Isolda and Stefanus paused with her, both glancing at Constance.

She shooed at them. “Get on with you. Nothing to be frightened of.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it to get us inside?” Sarra asked, even as she stepped past the leafy barrier.

Constance smiled and turned to go. Stefanus followed Sarra, and the hedge closed itself behind them. The seven stared at the spot where the opening had been, then around at the lanes available to them.

“This way,” Hugo said determinedly, setting off to the left.

Willelmus planted his feet. “Who said we have to stick together?”

“Makes sense to pool our knowledge, don’t you think?” Sarra said, edging toward Hugo. “Best way to get through a maze. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“But aren’t they looking at us individually?”

“And right now they’re looking at us arguing,” said Stefanus, stepping toward Hugo. “This way is as good as any other.”

“Well, I’m going right,” Willelmus said, marching around the corner with wand raised.

Agneta and Christiana followed him. The four others exchanged a glance, and nodded toward the left passage. Hugo led the way around the corner - and smacked straight into a griffin.

The sight of the creature was so unexpected it rendered them all speechless. Isolda grabbed Hugo’s arm and dragged him back, staring up at the hooked beak that was nearly the size of her head. Both of them fumbled for their wands, but it was Sarra who first managed to shoot a spell. It ricocheted around the hedge, completely missing the beast.  It released a deafening screech that prompted one from Isolda. Stefanus waved his wand, but little more than blue sparks came out of it.

The griffin growled and advanced a step.Hugo dropped his wand, dove for it,and shouted a spell in Gaelic that sent up a tangle of brambles from the ground.

“Well done!” Isolda breathed,  tightening her own grip and offering a hand  to Hugo to stand. He ignored it, scrambling upward and raising a fist in a gesture of victory.

“But we still have to go that way,” Stefanus reminded them, gripping his wand more tightly. “Plans, anyone?”

“We could  backtrack, take Willelmus up on his idea,” Isolda offered, tugging nervously at the end of her braid.

The griffin threw itself against the brambles, screeching in frustration. Four wands came up, but none of them moved against the beast.

“She said it would be fair, right?” Sarra said, tapping her wand against her forehead. “So it has to be something we can beat. Even if we were all terrible at wandwork.”

“So it’s not really going to tear our heads off?” Isolda asked, laughing a bit. “They wouldn’t let any of us die, right?”

“Well, there’s no guarantee of that,” Sarra said, rolling up her right sleeve so her wand was free. “But I think you’re generally correct. So, where does that leave -”

The griffin clawed through one side of the brambles, reaching toward them with heavy claws. Isolda gave a tiny shriek, but stood her ground against the beast, wand aloft, if shakily. Stefanus raised his wand, but no spell came to him. Hugo fired another spell at the beast, but it missed, soaring through the branches and dissolving mid-air.

Sarra took a deep breath and shouted “ _Slege_!” at the creature. Her wand erupted in a dark green jet of light that tore into the griffin. The animal roared, then vanished.

The four stared at one another in disbelief. Hugo advanced several steps, wand raised, and poked at the brambles he’d conjured.

“No sign of it?” Isolda asked.

“No,” Hugo replied. He waved his wand at the brambles, but they crumpled only slightly. He frowned and tried again, with similar results. He turned back to the group, shoulders raised in confusion.

Stefanus sighed and stepped past him, tearing at the brambles with his hands. They were disposed of in short order. The group moved forward, more carefully now than they had.

The pathway twisted and forked twice. Hugo, still in the lead, headed left first without hesitation. There were no beasts to frighten them on this course, but twice they had to resort to their wands to ward off enraged hedge-dwelling bowtruckles. By the time they reached the second turning, Hugo halted.

“We’ve curved around so much I can’t tell which way we should go,” he admitted after several long moments of silence.

Sarra stood stockstill for a moment, eyes closed, as if mentally tracing the route they’d taken thus far. “Well, if all is as straightforward as it should be, we ought to bear right. But it’s a maze.”

“So we should go left?” Hugo asked, edging that way.

“But would they expect us to take the less obvious route? Constance said it would be fair to all, and there have been some very small children passing through this maze,” Stefanus said.

The four stared at one another for several long moments. Hugo opened his mouth, but closed it, inclining his head slightly at Sarra, who seemed most unwilling to accept the responsibility of choosing. Then, surprisingly, Isolda spoke up.

“I think we should go to the right.”

“Why?” Sarra challenged, though not unkindly.

“Because every time we’ve gone left, we’ve been attacked. I just thought we might try changing something of our strategy, rather than expecting the maze to cater to us.”

The others blinked, and Isolda nodded, seemingly still surprised at her own daring in speaking up. “Good, then. It’s decided. Let’s go.”

Hugo took the lead yet again, but this time it was Isolda rather than Sarra who was at his right elbow.

A few yards later, Stefanus stopped. “Do you smell that?”

The others froze, sniffing the air, but shook their heads. Stefanus took several steps forward, wand raised, and inhaled again.

“It smells like... like the fire when we burn rotten wood. Do you see any flames?”

Sarra cast a quick glance around, her face setting. “No, but I do see a shadow.”

Stretching around the corner they were approaching, its shape distorted at best, was a shadow easily the size of a troll. In fact, as they edged toward it, it became clear that it most likely was a troll. The sound of heavy breathing, coupled with the shadow of a gigantic club, left little room for it to be anything else. Hugo took two long strides forward, but Isolda’s hand on his shoulder stopped his advance.

“We need an attack plan,” Sarra said, brandishing her wand in a poor show of bravado.

“It’s probably just another obstacle, right? Another conjured creature who isn’t really real?” Isolda asked.

“Do you want to take that chance?” Sarra challenged.

Stefanus was pacing off the width of the lane in which they stood. The other three stopped their bickering long enough to watch him.

“What are you doing?” demanded Hugo.

“Well, if I remember correctly, Sarra’s first spell bounced off these hedges. The same principle should work if we apply it here. We’ll just need to set up the proper angle... here.”

He stopped and pointed at a spot directly in front of him. “Sarra, can you use that spell again?”

“It probably isn’t strong enough for a troll -”

“Was it strong enough for a real griffin?” Stefanus countered.

“Fair point.” Sarra raised her wand, frowning in concentration, and shouted, “ _Slege_!”

The jet of light ricocheted across the pathway thrice before disappearing around the corner and colliding with the creature beyond. It roared, and the shadow lumbered forward. Four wands raised, however shakily, to meet it. One grayish foot appeared around the branches, then twitched, shrank, reformed into - a doxy. The tiny black creature flew toward them, mewling its displeasure.

“ _Syfrdanu_!” Hugo shouted, sending a spout of red light toward the beast. It collided with the doxy, which somersaulted backwards thrice in the air before falling to the ground.

Stefanus gave a celebratory whoop. Sarra actually hopped in place, “Well done! I don’t know that spell - what does it do?”

Hugo grinned and shrugged off Sarra’s approving shoulder pat. “My house had an infestation of doxies last year. If you haven’t any doxycide to hand, you have to stun them.”

“Wonderful! I’ll have to remember that. Also, if you’ve got -”

“Sarra,” Isolda cut across her. “Maybe not just now.”

Sarra nodded sheepishly. “Onward, then?”

Hugo trotted forward, the others on his heels.

 

************

“Have you seen Caderyn?”

Constance turned away from the hedge at the sound of Godric’s voice. He marched up to her, looking harried and a bit cross. The right half of his robe was spattered with something green and putrid. Constance demurely tucked an auburn lock behind her ear and did her best not to laugh.

“No, but I take it you have. Is it your turn to play keeper? I thought Sylvia was watching him.”

“She hasn’t been capable of that since he learned to crawl.”

“Godric,” Constance remonstrated, but a laugh escaped.

“On Sorting Day!” Godric shouted.

Constance didn’t bother replying, but drew her wand and waved it in a diagonal pattern at the bespattered cloth. A few clumps shrank, but the substance remained stubbornly visible. She frowned and tried again, murmuring, “ _Turgeo_.”  The splash on his sleeve vanished, but nothing else.

“What is it?”

Godric snorted. “Discover that and I’ll declare you a seer. Nothing I’ve tried works.” He waved his wand in a wild crescent, eliciting a trail of some bluish haze that smelled vaguely of dung and bubotuber pus.

“You could change your robe with less effort,” Constance offered.

“I want his father to see what he’s -”

Godric’s tirade was cut off by the hedge opening and four students tumbling out, breathless and staring.

“Is that it?” Sarra demanded. “This isn’t another part of the maze?”

“No, you’ve passed,” Constance said. “You all look relatively unscathed.”

They glanced at each other, seeming to reassure themselves that they had, in fact, exited the maze without injury. Stefanus brushed a leaf from Isolda’s sleeve. The tip caught the fabric, revealing a rip at the elbow just where the embroidery formed a silvery flower. Isolda’s face fell, her eyes darkening from pale blue to stone grey.

“My mother spent ages on this.”

Sarra and Constance both raised their wands, but Stefanus beat them to it. He tugged the loose thread free and pointed his wand. He uttered no spell, but the thread wound itself into the fabric, finding the holes from which it had pulled free and completing the petals missing from the flower - guided by the tiniest of flicks and twitches from Stefanus’ wand. The rest of the group stared.

“I thought you said you were new to wand wielding,” Sarra said, quirking an eyebrow.

Stefanus shrugged. “You don’t need a wand to mend a tear. Household chores are a good place to practice magic when you don’t know what you’re about.”

“My mother would drag me to chapel and claim me as a miracle from on high if I could do half so well,” Sarra countered, stepping closer to examine the repairs.

“The household arts aren’t so much of an accomplishment when you’re a son of my family.”

“Mastery that fine at your age is an accomplishment no matter what the art,” Constance said, looking to Godric for support.

The red-haired man was in the midst of hiding a smirk, but he straightened at the sight of her frown. “Oh yes, she’s definitely got a point. Just wait till you get some proper training. Who knows what _real_ talents you’ll discover.”

“Yes,” Constance broke in. She patted Godric on the arm and give a broad wink to the children. “Godric can tell you all sorts of things you’ll learn here. Things like avoiding obvious traps set by 9 year-olds.”

Godric made an indignant noise in his throat, but as uncertain laughter trickled forth from the group, the frown on his brow faded. He gave a warm bark of a laugh that set them at their ease.

“We’re never too old to learn. Isn’t that what our parents keep telling us?”

The hedge parted again, revealing Willelmus, Agneta and Christiana. Willelmus looked rather affronted to have been beaten out of the maze, but both the girls looked as if they’d been running from Inferi the whole time.

“What sort of test is this?” he demanded. “Seems a poor substitute for meeting with the masters ourselves.”

The haughty tone dispelled the warmth that had been taking root in the group. Godric took a step forward, seeming to grow in height and breadth as he did so.

“I can assure you, sirrah, it’s as good a way to sort as the four greatest minds in Wizardkind could devise. If you are dissatisfied with the results, you needn’t come -”

“Godric!” Constance cut across him. “Why don’t you escort this group back to their parents? I’ll signal the next.” Godric stalked two paces toward her right side and she muttered. “Is Caedryn to spoil their day, too?”

It was an effective argument, and well she knew it. Giving Salazar’s child more power was something Godric would go to great lengths to avoid. He forced a smile that melted genuine on his features.

“Come on, then, the lot of you. What stories you’ll have to tell after today, eh? If you’d just leave out the bit where I am covered in what looks like glumbumble sick -”

“We fought a troll!” Hugo piped up, unleashing a babble of young voices as the others spilled their own stories.

Constance watched them go and smiled, then raised her wand and sent three puffs of purple smoke into the sky. More hopefuls were waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

“And this is the last of the scrolls,” Godric announced, catching the door with his foot so Helena, Constance, and his younger brother Gawain could follow him into the council hall.

They had no better name for the long, single-roomed building that had become the locus of all plans regarding the school. The room was overlarge, given it had only one long table in the center, when it could easily hold dozens. The table was littered with scrolls, broken quills, and a fair amount of candles. At the far end were four chairs, occupied by the four witches and wizards people had been clamoring to see all day. Despite their fairly sequestered experience, they looked quite as exhausted as their offspring. Godric Sr.’s hair looked as if a snidget had attempted to nest in it, so often had his fingers raked through it, and Rowena Ravenclaw’s right sleeve bore the unmistakable signs of having been fidgeted with fingernails for the majority of the day. She looked up at the piles of scrolls and gave a delicate sigh.

“Just put them there,” she said, flicking her wand precisely at a spot a few feet down the table. The candle there edged to the left and an unfurled drawing of a dormitory rolled into itself to create room.

The younger Godric let the door shut with an echoing thud that made Salazar Slytherin frown. Gawain threw a 15-year-old’s pleased grin back at his brother at the sight. Their father could claim friendship with the man all he liked, but the sons of Gryffindor had little use for the haughty wizard.

“Will you be able to finish the sorting tonight?” Constance asked, depositing her scrolls and pausing by her mother’s chair for an encouraging squeeze of her shoulder.

Helga Hufflepuff was perhaps the most energetic of the four, her carriage still buoyant and her smile only slightly dimmed.

“We’ll easily finish by week’s end,” she said. “Our trial worked as we hoped. Most of the students are easy to claim, as we predicted.”

To her left, Godric poured himself a goblet of claret wine and summoned another parchment to his hand. “We should have done this years ago. So much more straightforward than all the bowing and scraping that goes with meeting them one by one.” He squinted suddenly at his eldest, having finally noticed the condition of his robes. “What have you got into?”

“A gift from Caedryn,” Godric said, casting a glance at Salazar. “He thought his best contribution to the day was a packet of this… stuff bewitched to fall on me as I was escorting parents to the exit of the maze.”

Salazar gave an amused smile. “Well, you could hardly expect him to stay away from all the excitement. He’s a curious lad.”

A preemptive frown from Helena, Constance, and Helga collectively stopped Godric’s retort before he got further than a drawn breath. He looked to his father for support, only to receive an amused shrug.

“Where are the rest?”

“Father and Roderick are working with Moira and the twins dismantling the hedges. Ginevra is keeping Geoff, Milly, and the young ones in your house. Last I saw of Sylvia and Caedryn, they were headed to the lake,” Constance reported with drumming rapidity.

“If we’re to make much more progress tonight, I suggest we reconvene,” said Salazar before anyone had time to react to the information. He dismissed the group with a slight nod that garnered a clenched jaw from both the young lions, but was obeyed.

“Thank you all,” Helga called as the door opened. “Be sure to tell your brothers and sisters, too.”

There was a chorus of acknowledgements, then the younger generation left the masters to their work. Gawain, the last through, aimed a frown at Salazar and let the door slam with enough force to gutter the candles.

“You might spare a thought to teach him how to close a door quietly,” Rowena suggested mildly.

“If I wanted him learning courtier’s manners, I would have sent him to you, Rowena,” Godric countered, giving a laugh that almost demanded to be joined. The air in the room loosened. The day had been long, and the enormity of their task had all but overshadowed their pleasure in undertaking it.

“If we’re to get through this, I suggest we weed out the assured ones now,” Rowena said, drawing a pile of scrolls toward her. “Everyone take some to sort.”

There was a collective sigh as they obeyed. Scouring through their notes from watching the day’s trials was hardly difficult, but it was time-consuming. Well over half the prospective students displayed a strong leaning toward one of their houses by simple observation. Those were sent to the master to whom they belonged. Those who had been given mixed commentary were placed in the center for review. For a quarter of an hour the only sound was the crinkle of parchments unrolled and the whisper of them settling amongst their fellows at various spots on the table.

Rowena took the first parchment from the center and read out the name. “Elyas from Malling in Kent. I still say he’s perfect for you, Salazar. Did you see him trap that nest of plimpies? Shrewd lad, and most certainly interested in less common arts.”

“Blood status?”

The query drew noises of objection from the others at the table. Salazar spread his hands in an attitude of long-suffering innocence, grey eyes amused.

“We agreed this would only work if we accept all students with magic. Blood status isn’t a concern,” Helga said.

“You agreed to that,” Salazar said. “I wouldn’t dream of telling you that you are forbidden from taking Mudbloods under your wing, but I see no cause for me to associate with them.”

Helga’s face was set in an expression that would have been fearsome if it weren’t for the smile lines indelibly etched around her eyes and mouth. Godric had clenched a fist and was glaring at his friend, his knitted eyebrows delivering a blistering lecture. Salazar returned both gazes with calm indifference. Rowena sighed and looked back at the paper.

“He’s pureblood. Documented seven generations.”

“Very well, then, I’ll take him.”

Rowena passed the parchment to him and took up the next.

“Bartholomew of Croft.”

“I liked him,” Godric said. “Lots of spunk against that troll.”

“Yes, but he had such an interest in learning the origins of spells. Quick mind, creative,” Rowena protested. “Everything I’d want in a student.”

“Clever wizards can prefer adventures to scrolls.”

“Adventurous wizards need scrollwork to keep them alive in their cavortings.”

“You’ll have your chance to give him scrollwork. We agreed. But a lad like that really ought to be in my house.”

Rowena’s lips pursed, but she did not sigh again as she levitated the parchment to him.

“Stefanus of Oxford. Oh, I remember him.”

“I’d marked him for my house,” Helga said, looking around at the other three. “Who else wanted him?”

“Me,” Rowena said. “His idea for the troll was genius. Immediate solution to a problem that stumped almost half of them. And Constance recommended him to me because of some instance after the maze. A nice piece of near-wandless magic to fix a sleeve.”

“Constance told you?” Helga echoed, brow wrinkling everso slightly.

“She is one of my graduates, after all. She knows the sort of thing I look for.”

“True.” Helga hesitated for a moment, then continued, “Well, he sounds as if he might fit with you, but has he any draw toward the kind of academia you demand from your students?”

“I’m not certain, but he’s got a quick mind,” Rowena countered.

“Is cleverness to be solely the purview of the house of Ravenclaw?” Helga asked mildly.

“You know I didn’t mean it in that way.” Rowena held up the parchment and pointed to her swirling script running along the side. “He’s got a mind that’s different - sharp, particular. He’s already got an inkling of wandless magic. Wandless at 14, with no training. Don’t you see the kind of creativity that requires? He’s the kind of pupil -”

“- who lost his place in line three times because he was helping little ones find their parents again,” Helga interrupted. “I don’t deny anything you’re saying. I don’t even doubt he’s clever enough to be a star pupil. I doubt that’s where his heart is.”

Rowena frowned down at the parchment. The silence stretched several heartbeats past comfort. Godric rather noisily drained his goblet and replaced it on the table before speaking.

“Can’t you two sort it out between you? Neither Salazar nor I have an interest in the lad - and there are dozens more here for us to sort tonight.”

“Did he give a preference?” Helga asked.

Rowena ran her eyes over the parchment. “None listed.”

Helga nodded. “Very well. Take him. But if he proves unhappy with your style of teaching, or you are dissatisfied with his zeal for your books -”  
“I’ll give him till the solistice. If he’s truly miserable, you’re welcome to take him into your house.”

Helga spread her hands in a gesture of surrender, but her expression was satisfied. Rowena tapped the parchment so it unfurled and folded itself into a neat rectangle with the name still visible across the top. _Stefanus of Oxford_.

“Now, then, Cadogan of Nottingham.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Hog’s Hollow was a wild, empty expanse mere months previous. A quiet, undisturbed part of the highlands, bounded to the north by a loch as deep and foreboding as the waters of Styx, and to the west and south by a forest entering its second or third century. The trees are young enough to have but few secrets gnarled into them, but old enough to keep superstitious clansmen from hunting among them. To the east were mountains feared by Muggles and Wizards alike for tales of giants - tales with more than a doxy’s weight of truth. And betwixt all these sinister barriers, an open, untouched plain as vast as beautiful. I saw this place in a dream. Saw it as it was, and as it would be - with a castle built at its highest point and a village of outbuildings below. The perfect place to shield those applying themselves to the ancient arts from the violent mistrust growing so rampant among Muggles._

_Of course, the castle is far from complete. Even with the four most powerful wand-wielders in the country directing construction, the castle, Hogwarts, will take many months to finish. Possibly over a full year. Still, the castle itself is little more than a showpiece - rather as vainglorious as the mandarin’s palace in the East or the pharaoh’s pyramids. The true purpose of our enterprise is providing proper magical education to all witches and wizards in Britain, and that task could just as easily be served in a hut. The other Masters and I agree that delaying until the castle is built would be wasting precious time._

_And so it is that Godric Gryffindor left his castle keep, Salazar Slytherin his fortified fen, Helga Hufflepuff her woodland court, and I my Highland tower, that we may all make our home in Hogsmeade, and together begin an experiment unheard-of by Wizardkind. Anno Domini 987 - the founding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Rowena smiled at the parchment. It was not, strictly speaking, a formal record, but she indulged her poetic side so rarely that it tended to respond too well to encouragement. Ah well, history turned to legend without any help from its participants. Perhaps if she had a hand in it, the facts would be present a few centuries longer.

She waved her wand once to be certain the ink had dried and rolled the parchment into a tight scroll. There was a pile of curriculum notes she’d collected to pass on to her two most senior scribes for copying by her elbow, and her intent had been to place this narrative among them. But she held back, almost shy of sharing it. It was incomplete, after all. Even the setting of today’s sun would bring a better conclusion to her opening record. Today the students arrived and their first classes began in earnest.

“They’re here, Mother!” Helena called up the stairs, sounding harried.

Rowena flicked her wand and the piles of lesson plans and schedules rose in a graceful cloud behind her. She pointed it forward and sent them out the door and down the stairs in front of her.

“Oomph!” The sound met her at the landing, accompanied by a flurry of parchment falling to the floor, smacked there by whoever was attempting to ascend.

“ _Thigairais_!”  Rowena said, pulling those still floating back behind her. “Oh, Roderick, my papers!”

Her husband lowered his wand and frowned up at her. “Forgive me. I didn’t expect to be greeted by a flock of lesson plans.” He shifted the books in his left arm and flicked his wand at the papers scattered around him. They flew into the air with a speed that made Rowena cringe.

“Roderick - perhaps I should -” she began, as delicately as possible.

Roderick froze mid-flick, leaving a diagram of a canary transforming into a phoenix floating half-furled in front of him. His fingers tightened on the wand, but his voice was perfectly civil. “Of course, dear. The others are waiting - I’m just on my way to find a few more quills to pass around. The Gryffindors forgot to bring any.”

They smiled tightly at each other and she stood aside so he could pass. This year had been hard on Roderick, she knew. It hadn’t been easy on him to leave the herb beds his family had tended for centuries in the highlands - though, she reasoned, his younger brother had taken the reins of the family business and Roderick would have no shortage of chances to set up an equally innovative herb stock here in Hog’s Hollow. He had a genius for the breeding of plants. She was preoccupied, as he knew she must be, with plans for the school, but she’d done her best to make him feel useful. She’d even recommended him to assist with the Herbology lessons, a post he’d taken with less enthusiasm than she’d hoped. It had been a decade since they’d felt quite so unfamiliar to one another.

There was no time to worry about that. Rowena sorted the papers back into their proper groups and hurried down the stairs and into the great room. A group of eight sat in a knot around the banked fireplace. Godric and Ginevra, with Godric Jr. blinking sleepily to his father’s right; Salazar, the sole representative of his house, leaning against the mantel; Helga and her oldest son, Jasper Jr., with Constance bridging the gap between her family and Helena, who had an empty chair to her left, no doubt where Roderick had been.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, letting the papers come to rest on the dining table by the window.

There was a low mumble of sound in response. Godric shifted forward in his chair, instantly commanding the attention of the group.

“The students will meet in the council hall for breakfast in half an hour. Ginevra and I have checked with all those who arrived last night, and Jasper is keeping watch for the rest as we speak. We have limited time to review plans for the day. You should all know what you’ll be doing.” He paused only long enough to for a single nod from each. “Helena and Jasper, we need you two to be on hand to assist students in locating their classes -”

“I’ve rearranged the times of some lectures,” Rowena interrupted.

Roderick entered just in time to join the muffled groan that emanated from all sides of the room.

“Just as well that I brought these, eh?” he said, tossing the quills into the air and directing them with his wand to both Godrics, Salazar, Ginevra, and Jasper. Rowena waited, quelling her pique, till Godric Jr. had retrieved a rumpled piece of parchment from his robe.

“Students who show ability with their wandwork will be sent to the short of the lake to begin work on defensive magic after luncheon - Godric and Jasper will lead that exercise. And mind you both keep your rank in mind. Some of these students are near enough your age to be your siblings, but you are their teachers, representatives of the masters under whom they are coming to study. Deport yourselves accordingly.” The two young men assumed grave expressions which fooled no one. A crinkle of frustration carved itself into Rowena’s brow. “Perhaps I ought to send Helena instead.”

“But I’m to work with the current apprentices on their potions,” Helena protested. “Which of them do you trust to do that?”

The crinkle deepened. “Fair point. Very well, we’ll leave it be. Constance, you’re to take the theory students to the library. I have copy work for them and then they may continue their spellwork assignments till midmorning while we work with the new ones. Once we’ve sorted out what these new apprentices will need, we’ll merge the groups again.”

Jasper started to raise his hand, but turned the action into a scratch at the beard forming on his chin. “I thought the arrangement was that we’d teach in sessions like the muggles do at their universities. Wasn’t that the point of all this?”

“And so we shall, when we can appropriately divide them,” Rowena snapped, letting a fine edge of frustration chisel out her words. “As of today, we’ve over 300 new apprentices at differing levels of magical proficiency all beginning training at the same time. Would you care to find a way of forming such sessions that is quicker?”

No one met her eye. It was possible she’d been harsher than she thought, but it was time wasted, and today of all days she had no patience for inanities.

“Right, then. After luncheon, we’ll reconvene to try a rotating schedule.” She turned her wand on the parchments and squared her shoulders. “Listen closely, and be sure you look over these lesson plans well. I spent weeks on them.”

 

No amount of planning or expectation or attempts at divination could begin to prepare them for that morning. The masters met their influx of students each according to their own style. Godric gave a stirring speech about Wizardkind’s place as protector of the lands and started his apprentices on martial magic almost at once. By midmorning, even the smallest of them could produce a respectable repelling jinx. Helga, by contrast, spoke briefly and spent the majority of the morning working through the new recruits in small groups, focusing on the most elemental spells. Rowena’s clan were treated with a visit to her personal library and set almost at once to choosing areas of research. Salazar took his students to the lake, removed from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor ears, to give his students a lesson in the true responsibility of wand-wielders - ascendance to power.

Where before they had been dealing with groups of five or ten apprentices, able to mold and shape them individually, today they stood before a sea of faces, masters in the truest sense of the word. With their older apprentices added to the tally, the count stood at or above a hundred in each house, and the sight of them flooding into the council hall for a noon repast held the grandeur of an army. Sylvia Slytherin and the Hufflepuff twins had bread and fruits waiting as the heat of the day approached.

Stefanus and Sarra say with the throng of Ravenclaw’s students. They’d been pleased to find each other in the mix of students waiting outside Rowena’s door that morning.

“What do you think of this morning’s lesson?” Sarra asked, studying a bowl of apples before choosing the one with the deepest red skin.

“I would be happy to spend most of my days in that library,” Stefanus said. “You can sense the magic there.”

“And the knowledge,” Sarra said, eyes gleaming. “Just what we need. Anyone can figure out how to point a wand and cast a spell - it’s a part of us. But to learn the secrets of the spells themselves - to understand the roots of magic and how our powers truly work - that’s why we need a school such as this! I can’t imagine what the others are doing that could be half so important.”

“Learning how to defend ourselves,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Sarra and Stefanus turned to find Hugo standing between the tables, eyes alight and wand still in his hand.

“Actual dueling! Can you believe it? Master Gryffindor took on three of his older apprentices and knocked them all on their backs in a thrice. They say his final examination before an apprentice is considered fully qualified is a duel against him - and he’s never been beat!”

Sarra laughed. “Then how does one purpose to win their freedom of him?”

“He looks to see you can handle yourself, is all.”  
Sarra cocked an eyebrow at Stefanus. “Does that sound appetizing to you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Stefanus admitted, laughing at Hugo’s affronted look. “But come - you keep your bowl of pudding, we will keep ours, and we all three will come out satisfied in the end.”

Hugo flashed a grin and turned to find those of his own house. Stefanus and Sarra returned to their meal with amusement still bubbling up.

“Was there a doubt he’d be chosen by Master Gryffindor?” Sarra asked.

“None in my mind.”

“I’m curious, though. Will Master Ravenclaw teach us any martial magic? Not that I’ve much taste for it myself, but I should like to be able to defend myself from beasts and Muggles, at the least.”

Stefanus frowned at the grouping, but covered it with a shrug. “We’ll be told when the time comes, I expect.”

Sarra’s brow furrowed, but as she opened her mouth, a scream from the doorway brought the din of the feast to a standstill.

 _“Dragon!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

The stunned silence lasted the space of a breath. Then it was Godric’s trumpeting voice cutting over the buzz that swelled in its absence.

“All new students remain here. Helena, Sylvia, Roderick - “ he paused only long enough to find their faces in the crowd, “Stay with them. The rest of you, with me.”

The four Masters were well out the door before the panic had fairly set in, followed by the majority of the older students. Sarra leapt to her feet, fishing in her robe for her wand. Stefanus made to call out, but the building was swiftly being overtaken by the screams of the younger children. He slid off the bench and dashed the few paces it took to catch up to her, reaching out for her wand arm.

“You can’t.”

Sarra rounded on him, eyes alight. “Have you ever seen a dragon? Aren’t you curious?”

“No, and those that have are usually missing limbs,” he countered, tightening his hold on her arm.

“You’re truly not coming?”

“I’d prefer to see a dragon when I have some protective magic about me. Maybe through the window?”

Her eyes lost a bit of their sheen. “We’re here to learn all we can, and there’s a dragon outside these walls, and you want to watch through the window?”

“Well, to be fair, it’s also because they’re sealing the hall.”

Sure enough, Helena and Roderick were waving their wands at the windows, causing their faint rattling to slow and the sounds from without to lower their din. She spun around, looking for another option, just in time to see Hugo sneaking out the farthest window. WIth a muted squeal of delight, she scrambled around a table and followed. Stefanus glanced around, deciding. Roderick had been distracted by a distraught young one and was falling behind on this bank of windows. Helena was occupied with her side. Sylvia Slytherin had gathered a knot of the youngest around her, though her arms only seemed to had room for her son. There was no one to go after them. He heaved a sigh and followed.

Outside was less chaotic than Stefanus expected. In fact, compared to the scene within, this was nearly peaceful. Godric had martialed the half of the older apprentices in a circle around the council hall, and plumes of various colored light were twisting and swirling over the building till it seemed to be caught in a cloud of magic. Another, smaller contingent was headed to the homes of the masters, covering them with the same amalgam of protective spells. The rest stood with wands aloft and eyes skyward.

Stefanus pulled Sarra to a stop behind the pile of barrels to the back of the hall, stopping her from darting forward. She didn’t struggle much, for the dragon swooped suddenly upward from the forest, arresting everyone’s attention.

The creature was not what Stefanus had expected. Large enough to shadow the entire council hall with one wing, craggy-faced and heavy-bodied, the black beast soared overhead, more lumbering than graceful. The outraged shriek it produced was deafening.

Sarra grasped his sleeve reflexively, but did not shrink back. The battalion of witches and wizards had fanned out, some continuing their protective spells, others placing themselves in positions to defend them. The dragon circled overhead, loosing another shriek, then dipped for another pass, closer to them. The wands all around rose, but no streaks of light flew upwards. A vaguely sulphurous aroma, weighted with the gamey scent of venison, wafted past as the creature turned yet again.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Sarra muttered, more to herself than Stefanus.

“Would you want to antagonize it?”

“That’s a fair question,” said a male voice from their right.

Both students lurched to the side to see a young man with a tawny beard and amused grin leaning against the barrels. Under his right arm, casually locked to his side, was Hugo, despite the lad’s best efforts to wriggle free. It occurred to Stefanus that he’d quite forgotten the lad was outside as well.

“Of course,” the man continued, “I suppose one might wonder why three wee ones who scarce know which end of the wand to point would put themselves in the path of a dragon, too.”

“I’ve had a wand for nigh on two years,” came Hugo’s muffled, disgruntled voice from under the man’s arm.

“Well, then, consider me full impressed,” the man replied, still maintaining his grip. He shook his left sleeve so his wand slid into his hand and traced an oval around the barrels. The air thickened around them as the magic solidified, and the man flashed another grin. “I remember the first time I saw a dragon. What a thrill that was!”

The beast circled overhead again, casting them in shadow. The foursome instinctively ducked. Hugo used the opportunity to twist free, but found his path barred by an invisible barrier. The man continued speaking, even as the angle of his body shifted to something more like a dueling stance and his eyes followed the tightening flight pattern with a focus that belied his casual tone. “I sneaked out to see it, too, when I was about seven. I rather expect people your age to have more sense.”

Thickly, as though through a wall, they heard Salazar Slytherin calling orders to those closest to him. The words were unclear, but a veritable flock of rooks erupted from wands all around. They rose, squawking as insistently as natural birds, and fluttered about, a black cloud that created a tenuous barrier between the hall and the dragon.

“Is it going to attack?” Sarra asked, frowning skyward.

“It’s a dragon, lass. The only thing any of us knows for sure is that it has the power to if it so chooses,” the man said, his voice serious for the first time. “This one looks older. It might have more sense than to -”

The dragon gave another deafening roar and charged at the conjured birds. They scattered and reformed as a block to the north of the hall, toward the lake. The creature pulled out of its dive, spiraling upwards and redirecting itself to face them.

“Jasper!”

The man jerked around at the sound of Helga Hufflepuff’s voice. She had her wand up, but was staring at him in confusion.

“Coming, Mother!” He leant down slightly and fixed them with a suddenly serious face. “If you three want to live to tell this tale, you’ll stay put and not break the enchantments I’ve set.”

He had waved his wand and stepped past the invisible barrier before they had a chance to agree or disagree.

Jasper hurried over to where his mother was completing another layer of spells directed at the front of the hall.

“What in the name of Brighid were you doing with the mead barrels?”  
“I thought the dragon might be thirsty,” Jasper replied easily, twirling his wand to add his own contributions of rooks to the flock still circling overhead.

Helga’s frown of concentration lifted slightly in amusement. “Sometimes I think letting you spend so much time with the Gryffindor lads was unwise.”

“Most likely.”

The dragon released a huff of smoke. All attention refocused from the buildings to the sky. Jasper positioned himself slightly in front of Helga, glancing around to orient himself to the action. The noonday sun, even spotted with frothy clouds, made the scene harder to discern. His father stood to the south of the hall, directing most of Helga’s apprentices. Ginevra Gryffindor and Constance directed those defending the east side, and Salazar and Godric stood at the northwest corner, their students fanning out to either side. Several had grouped themselves close to Helga as well, including Rowena and her apprentices. But few of them had any actual experience with dragons, and as another blast of smoke appeared, this one stronger than the last, a ripple of genuine fear tightened their ranks.

“ _Assallir_!” Salazar shouted, waving his wand in a wide arc. The cry was echoed on all sides, sending the rooks forward to bat around the dragon’s face and wings, using claws and beaks to wreak as much damage as possible.

The dragon let loose a higher shriek that before, propelling itself backwards and upwards, limbs tearing holes in the birds’ ranks.

“Godric - this is more your territory than mine,” Salazar snapped, keeping his focus on the birds.

“What would you have me do? Stun the beast?”

“I would have you finish it in whatever way that military mind of yours advises.”

Godric frowned, twisting his wand to reconjure the rooks the dragon had ripped from existence. He glanced over his shoulder and glared. “You said this land would be safe, Rowena!”

“Dragons haven’t been sighted near this loch for - oh, Brighid, are we to argue about this now?”

Godric turned back to face the dragon, who was still clawing at the birds. The puffs of smoke were becoming more frequent. “ _Losgadh_!”

The jet of light was like a fountain, piercing through the cloud of rooks and finding its mark on the dragon’s neck. The beast spat an orange flame that incinerated the birds closest to it, but reached only a few feet. Wands all around raised to repeat the spell, but waited for Godric’s word.

“Aim for the weaker parts - the skin of the wings, the face - else they shan’t penetrate,” Godric shouted, sending up another stinging jinx.

The air was rent with shouts and spells. They landed haphazardly, some hitting the tougher skin of back and belly and bouncing off to fade into the sky, others contacting and being absorbed into the limbs and neck. The few that found their marks in the softer skin were enough, though. The beast snarled, shrieked, and ascended out of their range. It drew back its neck as if to spew fire at them. Wands turned, followed its path, prepared to deflect as best they could. But the dragon seemed to consider better of it. WIth a huff of smoke that had the faintest hint of flame, it turned toward the mountains.

The protectors stayed where they were, frozen with wands aloft, till it was clear the dragon would not turn back. Godric Jr.’s jubilant shout broke their concentration, releasing tense muscles and dry throats to copy the victory cry. Jasper turned to his mother and gave her a hug that near lifted her off her feet. The apprentices broke ranks, scattering to their masters who were converging by the door of the council hall.

“There hasn’t been a dragon sighting here in decades,” Rowena was saying as Jasper and Helga joined the inner circle.

Helga paused long enough to find Constance across the gathering and slip her hand into her husband’s as he arrived from the far side of the building. “We’re safe now, that’s the important thing.”

“Safe?” Salazar repeated. He stabbed the air with his wand. “We didn’t even truly wound the beast. What’s to keep it from coming back tonight and setting us ablaze in our beds?”

“There’s at least one hole in his wings,” the younger Godric said testily. “He’ll remember well what reception he was given.”  
“But he oughtn’t to have been here at all,” Rowena said, crossing her arms and frowning at the mountain. “He was old - over 50 years at least. What could it have meant by flying so close to settlements after all this time?”

Helga’s eyes had traveled down past the treeline where the Muggle village was nestled. “I wonder if the Muggles saw.”

“We’ll no doubt hear if they did,” Salazar said, “As Rowena has taken such pains to ingratiate herself to their king.”

Ginevra edged into the group, face flushed and eyes alight. She was as tall as Salazar, and the squareness of her jaw and decided set to her shoulders gave her a warrior’s air. “Will you organize a party to go after it?”

Godric gave a laugh of approval and put a hand on her shoulders, but Helga answered before he could.

“Surely not today of all days! We couldn’t leave so many new students just to hunt down a creature that -”

“A dragon,” Salazar interjected.

Helga fixed him with a look as cold as she was capable of giving. “Yes, a dragon who has left of his own free will. We’ve no fail-safe way of killing it, nor any great need to find one. And we do have a responsibility for the children within those walls.”

Jasper Jr. jolted in sudden remembrance. “And without,” he said, ducking out of the circle and leaving a trail of confused looks in his wake.

As he walked away, the argument started again, drawing focus from him as he had known it would. The three students were still crouched behind the barrels, though it seemed Hugo was doing his best to break the enchantments he had set upon them. Jasper grinned, but turned to the front doors of the hall. The windows were crowded with faces, but those within had not yet felt safe enough to allow them outside. He lifted his fist and pounded thrice on the heavy door.

“Open up - the beast has gone!”

He waited only long enough to hear the faint pop of shields being lifted from within before heading around the corner to the pile of barrels and removing the enchantments he’d placed there. Hugo tumbled out looking as if he’d just been handed a treasure chest.

“Did you see it? A real dragon!”

“I did, in fact,” Jasper said, laughing. “Got as friendly with it as any of them.”

“Why didn’t you kill it?” Sarra asked, dusting off her skirts as she clambered out.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “Because it wouldn’t let us get close enough to stick a sword in its gullet, and barring that, they’re devilishly hard to kill.” He waited for Stefanus to make his exit from their hiding place and turned serious. “I’d recommend you do your best to blend in with the group. Master Gryffindor might forgive you, sirrah,” he cuffed Hugo lightly on the side of the head, “but Master Ravenclaw would be hard-pressed to find the reason for you two to be out here. I’d just as soon skip the lecture from my mother, myself, if she finds out I allowed you to stay. Have we understood each other?”

They all nodded, and the foursome turned to join the crowd streaming from the council hall and into the meadow where Godric Gryffindor was already preparing to make a speech. Jasper detached himself from the children and made his way over to where his father stood at the edge of the crowd.

The elder Jasper Hufflepuff rarely stayed near the center of the action for long, preferring to abdicate that role to his wife, but neither did he stray far from it. Jasper Jr. had discovered when he was quite young that his father generally picked the best vantage points to observe without being drawn in.

“You’re lucky they weren’t harmed.”

Jasper didn’t turn at the quiet words, but settled his feet more firmly into the ground, stifling a smile. “Did they see?”

His father narrowed his left eye and raised his shoulder a fraction. “Not entirely certain, but I think not.”

“They were as safe as those inside the hall. What more good would a few inches of thatching done them?”

Another miniscule shrug. “Ask your mother that question. I’m certain she’ll have an answer for you.”

Jasper snorted, but Gryffindor had finally managed to quiet the students.

“You have nothing to fear. The dragon has been wounded and left us. It will not return after our defense. And even should it dare, these grounds are well protected.”

“Or shall be from now on,” Jasper whispered to his father. “I have a suspicion some of us are in for a long afternoon of charms.”

The elder man’s face crinkled in silent amusement, but he kept his eyes on Gryffindor. If there was one thing the husband of Helga Hufflepuff insisted on, it was setting the proper example for those around him. Still, his family knew well the sly humor that lurked beneath his stiff public demeanor.

“The masters will confer briefly, but lessons will continue as expected this afternoon,” Gryffindor was saying. “Now, everyone, please go back to your meals.”

It wasn’t really that he didn’t listen well when others spoke. It was just that there were other things to hear. Things like the sound of horses on the pathway through the woods - not galloping, but setting a rhythm like the tribal drums of old. The murmurings of voices, faint, but carrying. Jasper turned his head to the forest. No sign of them yet, but it was clear who was coming. His father had noticed, too, and was making his way to Helga, who had migrated nearer the center of the group. Jasper did not have his father’s subtlety  - another failing of too much time spent with Gryffindors, no doubt.

“Muggles approaching” he shouted.

There was no panicked frenzy in response to this announcement. Rather, the words seemed to freeze many of the youngers students in place. The older apprentices drew their wands again, but few placed themselves in defensive stances. Jasper didn’t need to look at Salazar Slytherin to know the sneer painted on the wizard’s face, nor the fact that he held his wand in readiness for attack. Those trained by him were the ones who had settled into dueling stances. The Four made their way to the spot where the path emptied into the field as the first horses came into sight. The men who rode them wore expressions twisted together from fear and battle rage and something that might have once been curiosity, but had faded to mistrust. They halted at the edge of the forest, a rag-tag group of peasant farmers armed with pitchforks and cleavers - no more than a dozen men strong. Jasper couldn’t help but admire their bravery. Farm tools against a dragon. He knew wizards trained by the Masters who would have run with wand in hand.

The two groups stood silent, eyes one another with all the warmth of two Kneazles circling each other.

“Greetings,” said Helga finally, smiling with a warmth that no one would dispute was genuine, though the Muggles looked uncomfortable to see it. “Is there trouble?”

The rider in front urged his plow horse a step forward, seeming to pluck courage from the motion. “We saw the beast in the sky. What’ve you done with it.”

“Merely frightened it off,” Helga replied.”

The man looked around at the undamaged buildings and collection of children. “Awful quick about it, you were.”

“We’ve dealt with dragons before.”

“Dragons - my grandsire recalls dragons from his boyhood, but the village came together and killed the nest when he was bare ten years old. Haven’t seen one since. But you -” his lip curled, spilling insults he hadn’t the courage to speak, “ - you people seem to attract them.”

“One dragon,” Godric countered, gruffly.

The muggle seemed to like being addressed by the burly wizard even less than he liked speaking to a woman. His jaw worked like he’d like to spit, but dared not.

“All I know is that there’s been a demon beast in the sky, the likes of which haven’t been seen these many years, and it’s here just when you people are gathering - the gods only know what for. Sommat dreadful, no doubt.”

“We are a school.” Rowena spoke for the first time, her voice calmer than Godric’s, but infinitely more disdainful. “There’s nothing dreadful about education.”

“A school?” The muggle repeated, narrow-eyed and distrustful. “A school for learning - “ he nodded at the wands pointing at them from all sides, “that abomination?”

Jasper saw the urgent gesture Helga made to the other masters and guessed their intent before theirs wands came up.

“Obliviate!”


	6. Chapter 6

The collection of blank faces staring at her was beginning to feel like pointed mockery. Helena swung the cauldron off of the fire and tilted it ever so slightly so the contents were more easily seen.

“The steam, you may notice, is rising in an angular fashion, similar to a lightning strike. This should make the main ingredient easily identifiable.”

She made herself pause long enough to ensure that each of the twelve students had had adequate time to observe the phenomenon. For a class that had begun so promisingly, the students’ enthusiasm was waning with the evening light. Even the students who had been under her mother’s instruction for years weren’t speaking.

“This, combined with the deep violet color of the potion itself is suggestive of the presence of what?”

More silence. Helena allowed herself a huff of frustration.

“Come now, the dragon can’t have stolen all the treasures of your minds. No one has a guess? Not one? Spica?”

The girl half-opened her mouth, but closed it with a tiny headshake. Helena made direct eye contact with each in turn, despite their best efforts to avoid it. When her gaze swept past the doorway, she saw Constance standing there, hiding her laughter behind her black sleeve. Helena lifted a shoulder interrogatively. Constance nodded to the window. The sun had touched the horizon, and she was supposed to have released these students half an hour earlier. She wondered if they would appreciate their salvation.

“You may take some time tonight to ponder on this. Everyone will take a sample to study. But dinner awaits and the masters are anxious that you meet the newer apprentices. So be off with you.”

There was a muted clatter as students produced vials and jostled each other for position by the cauldron. This room had been added to the Ravenclaw house for the express purpose of teaching potions, so its proportions were small and forced rather a more intimate setting than any of them would have preferred. Helena stepped back to allow them room and rolled up the lesson plan she’d abandoned as the students had become more recalcitrant. She resisted the sudden fancy to Vanish the potion before the slower ones were able to collect their samples. Constance edged past them, smiling in response to their harried looks, and found her way to Helena’s side.

“It’s as if they’ve never seen aught but a cough potion or an Euphoric Elixir,” Helena muttered in response to her friend’s interrogative look. She shrugged off the black outer robe that signified her status as teacher and tugged at the sleeves of the ice blue robe underneath. “My mother has no business undertaking to teach hundreds if her current apprentices are such glumbumbles.”

“Not all of them have the benefit of living in the house of Ravenclaw all their lives.”

“And well for them they didn’t,” Helena said, pitching her voice so the last two students scurrying hunch-shouldered from the room would hear. “My mother would have kept them at it, dinner or not, till they found the answer.”

“I take it your first lesson wasn’t a success,” Constance observed, waving her wand to straighten tables and chairs pulled askew in students in too great a haste to leave.

Helena siphoned a previously unnoticed spot of gelatinous substance off her sleeve and scowled at her friend. “Tomorrow will have no choice but to improve upon it.”

Constance laughed. “As optimistic an outlook as I can expect from you. But truly, was it so terrible? Potions have never been a favorite with you. Couldn’t it be -”  
“It’s a simple Silencing Solution!” Helena filled a vial and held it up to the light. “Did none of them ever see one in their homes? It has dragonwort in it! How did they overlook that?”

“How many of these students had cause to identify potions before they were of an age to be apprenticed? I certainly couldn’t have told you how dragonwort acts in a stretching potion till I was at least 13 - and only then because you and I spent far too much time in among the potions cabinets.”

“Don’t defend them,” Helena grumbled, though her voice modulated to a less shrill tone. “ _Scourgify_!” She directed her wand rather savagely at the inner rim of the cauldron. “Besides that, we would have figured it out, you and I. We knew we were required to find things out for ourselves.”

“Could it be, Helena Ravenclaw, that there’s something more gnawing at you than a few students reluctant to return to lessons?” Constance asked, abandoning her sorting of drying nettles to join her friend by the fire.

Helena poked her wand at the cauldron again rather than answer. Constance leaned back against the hearth and waited. It took until every speck of the cauldron had been thoroughly scrubbed for Helena to speak.

“Do you relish the thought of teaching the rest of your days, Constance?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t expect I shall.”

“Don’t you?” Helena put the cauldron aside and stood, meeting her friend’s eyes with an expression too knowing to be pleasant. “What do you expect will bring an end to it?”

“Well -”

“A wedding? Face the truth - right now one of us is likely to end up with Godric Gryffindor II - most likely you, as you have a brother who is the only other eligible bachelor to be seen.”

Constance may have blushed, but the firelight made it difficult to discern. “I don’t think our parents mean to merge the houses any further than they have by creating the school.”  
Helena gave an indelicate harrumph in response to that, but moved on. “Even supposing that, did a wedding stop either of our mothers teaching?”

“No, but they are hardly be held up as your day-to-day witches, now are they?”

“Are you saying we are?”

Constance shrugged. “I’m not my mother - nor yours, if that is your meaning. I don’t expect to be known the length and breadth of the land.”

“Speak only for yourself.”

“And so I was,” Constance replied, allowing a hint of impatience to color her words. “Come, Helena, what’s in back of this? If you truly hate teaching so, tell your mother. She has former apprentices enough to call upon.”

“I had planned to leave when Mother announced her grand scheme. Go East, maybe,” Helena said. “Learn more from the mages of the isles, perhaps. Something Mother doesn’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell her so when she asked for your help? Rowena Ravenclaw would never discourage anyone from -”

Helena’s raised eyebrow cut her off. “I don’t recall it being phrased as a request. Was it for you?”

Constance did her friend the courtesy of pausing to think back. “Well, I don’t think she was ever in doubt of my answer, but yes, she asked.”

“Of course,” Helena said, jaw jutting suddenly outward. “Her Beneficence Helga Hufflepuff would ask.”

Constance drew herself up, but before she could retort, a thundering of footsteps at the door drew their attention. Gawain Gryffindor, with 8 year-old Millicent Hufflepuff on his back, charged through the door and slammed it shut, flicking his wand to seal it on the oncoming figure of Caedryn Slytherin. Milly was giggling, but Gawain, though he smiled as he slid her to the ground, looked thunderous.

“Sorry, I thought this room would be empty,” Gawain said, turning to peer out the window where Caedryn was flourishing his wand with no apparent success.

“Why did you not take your game to your own house?” Helena asked, the pique in her voice still present, but softening.

“I thought we might confuse Caedryn.” A thump at the door told them the boy had abandoned magical methods. “He’s been hanging about since lessons ended for the young ones. I thought a good game of Erlking might tire him out, but he’s surprisingly tenacious, more’s the pity.”

“You’re cheating!” Caedryn called through the door, the whine unmistakable. “You can’t go where I can’t chase!”

“Seems a role that would suit him well,” Helena said.

“So it does,” Gawain acknowledged.

Milly frowned at both of them. “I don’t mind playing with him. We should go back out now.”

Another loud thump, followed by a high-pitched cackle from without, gave everyone pause.

“I’ll get you yet, sweetling,” Caedryn called, his voice squeaky like the German creature he was imitating. The Erlking was supposed to sound pleasant to children, a target Caedryn had failed to hit.

Milly gave a genuine grin that befuddled the other three and trotted willingly to the door.

“Just let me catch my breath,” Gawain protested.

“Shouldn’t you all be headed to the feast, anyway?” Constance asked. “Surely you’re expected to be there.”

Gawain’s face lit up in relief. Constance moved Milly to the side of the door and opened it just enough for Caedryn to nearly lodge himself in the gap.

“It’s time to stop now,” she said over his outraged noise of protest. “They’ve started dinner nigh on half an hour ago.”

“Not - hungry,” Caedryn panted out, backing up and settling into a defiant stance. “I haven’t won yet.”

“Well, I’m certain you could pick it up again tomorrow.”

Caedryn frowned, the expression crumpling his face. “ _Fhiuchadh_.”

“ _Protego_ ,” Contance muttered calmly, and the jet of blue light crumpled against the shield charm. Caedryn’s face relaxed into something like fear as she stepped closer to him, her voice softer but somehow more silkily threatening than it had been. “That is quite enough of that. Unless you want me to respond in kind.”

Caedryn seemed frozen, unwilling either to nod or shake his head. Constance took Milly’s hand and led the way across the green to the council hall, from which was spilling the chatter of hundreds of voices and the tantalizing aroma of roast meat. A few stragglers like themselves were coming from the various houses - older apprentices, by the look of them. Gawain and Helena fell in step along with them, leaving Caedryn to decide whether he would join or not.

“Please tell me there’s a spell that will let me do that,” Gawain said, lengthening his stride to match Constance’s.

“What, a shield charm? Don’t tell me you’ve reached this great age and can’t do a proper shield charm!”

“No, no, I mean that Nundu voice you just used. He was petrified!”

“Lower your voice or I’ll turn it on you next,” Constance said, cutting her eyes back to where Caedryn was kicking at tufts of grass as he meandered in the direction of the hall. “And it’s no spell. Just a blessing of being the oldest sibling.”

Gawain’s frown made Milly giggle. “That can’t be all.”

Constance squinted ahead in the dusky light. “I’ll prove it. Jasper!”

Her brother changed course to meet them, reaching to swing Milly up to a rather precarious perch on his shoulder. “You summoned me?”

“Put her down! You know how Mother feels about too much roughhousing with the little ones. Don’t make me ruin her first day even further than the dragon by telling her -”

Jasper had already placed Milly back on the ground, eyes wide and concerned. “Calm down, Constance. What’s wrong? Has something happened? I’ve been setting charms all afternoon and hadn’t heard -”

“See, Gawain? Just the talent of the firstborn,” Constance said, crossing her arms and grinning at her brother. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. I just had to prove to Gawain that my powers of intimidation don’t come from a wand.”

“Well, then,” Jasper said, hoisting Milly back to his shoulder. “So glad I could be of assistance.” He nodded to Gawain. “She’s scarier than most, though, I grant you. We should send her up the mountain after that dragon. She could talk it into submission.”

Caedryn passed them, taking special care to run into Jasper’s side. He staggered slightly and offered the boy a surprised look, which Caedryn ignored.

“I can take a guess who you’ve been using that skill on just now,” Jasper said.

Milly frowned down at Constance. “You needn’t have been so hard on him.”

“He tries to hex me, and I’m the one who needn’t have been so hard,” Constance shook her head. “You are more our mother than all the rest of us combined, Millicent Carys.”

Milly laughed again and squirmed her way down from Jasper’s shoulder. She and Gawain headed into the hall together, only a few steps behind Caedryn.

“So we are sending someone after the dragon?” Helena asked, stepping closer.

“No one knows for certain. I think our parents are going to meet after the apprentices go to bed tonight and discuss the problem. We’ve also got the Muggles to worry about, though. What if they get stupid enough to send someone?”

Constance and Helena frowned at each other and back to Jasper. Constance spoke first.

“But they were Obliviated. They can’t -”

“Do you truly think that only eleven men in that village saw the beast?”

“I truly hadn’t given it a moment’s thought,” Constance admitted. “You don’t think they’d send someone up the mountain after it, do you?”

“They’re Muggles,” Helena observed, shrugging dismissively and turning back to Jasper. “Have you finished setting the charms around the buildings?”  
“Yes, and we’ve cast quite a few repelling charms on the path through the woods. Shouldn’t be having any more unexpected visitors unless they are uncommonly determined.”

Constance watched the last of the sunset sink into the haze of dusk, frowning in the direction of the village. “How will we know if they decide to go after the dragon?”

“I expect we’ll see smoke.”

Her brother’s tone was close enough to joking that Constance turned around and smacked his shoulder. “If a battalion of fully trained wizards couldn’t bring it from the sky, do you think it anything less than irresponsible to allow Muggles to try?”

“You know I didn’t mean it as -”

Helena cut across him. “He makes an excellent point. We’ve no call to be their keepers.”

Constance knew the eyebrow raise too well. “You’re spoiling for a fight I won’t give you, Helena.”

Her friend gave a frown so emphatic it could almost be called a pout and brushed past them both to enter the hall. Jasper turned to Constance for an explanation, but she merely shrugged.

“They are planning on protecting the Muggles, aren’t they?”

Jasper draped an arm over her shoulders and tugged her toward the door. “I’d say the balance is decidedly in the Muggles’ favor. You worry far too much.”

An unwilling smile found its way to her lips. “On the first day of teaching hundreds of young wizards and witches we had to fend off a dragon and a party of Muggles, and you’re telling me I worry too much?”

Jasper paused at the door to consider, dropping his arm to open the latch. “Yes.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first feast at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lasted until the younger apprentices began to nod off into their pudding bowls. Platters of berries and cheeses started the meal, leaving fingers stained jewel-toned by the time they were removed and replaced with the bowls of chestnuts and pears and bread trenchers filled with an onion soup. During this course, several older apprentices bewitched some empty bowls and pitchers to tilt at one another on the center table, brandishing spoons at one another and draped in hair ribbons contributed by nearby witches. Wagers were set and more than a few items of varying value changed hands - from embroidered hairnets to the last of the pears to a few actual silver coins - as the pottery held its tournament. The jousts were halted by steaming mounds of succulent pork and trays of roast venison that commanded everyone’s attention.

The festival mood was not dampened, however, for the masters themselves, enlivened by their students’ antics and the oak-matured mead in their goblets, set about their own displays. First it was Gryffindor, who transfigured his goblet into a miniature graphorn to illustrate the tale of his time traveling the lands across the Muilichinn. Not to be outdone, Rowena took the surnappe from the Ravenclaw table and caused it to fly, demonstrating the clever methods of travel devised by those in the lands to the east and south. Salazar, thus reminded of his own time abroad, proceeded to recount the tales of the creatures he had encountered in the tombs of the Persian royalty, going so far as to conjure spectral images of strange beasts that seemed pieced together from creatures they already knew, beasts unnerving enough to rattle some of the more skittish children still recovering from their first sighting of a dragon earlier in the day. It was this that drew Helga into the fun. With a wave of her wand, she conjured a waterfall of colored light that cut through the pale outlines of scaled creature with oddly humanesque limbs and a face ugly and heavily lined. The sparks of light reformed to the shapes of wood-nymphs and dryads, who proceeded to jig above the students’ heads, to the music of a lute, viol and pipe that the other masters had hastily conjured.

It seemed a shame to end the entertainment, but when four house elves entered, each struggling with a pair of fully-grown, very active peacocks, the students’ attention was understandably drawn away. The birds were released, two at each table, and they trotted down the center, hopping over goblets left in their way by slack-jawed young witches and wizards, and arranged themselves equidistant from each other and the ends of the tables. It was as they were turning slightly and fanning their tails that the realization began to dawn. Around the hall came the mutterings, “It’s a cake! It’s meant to be eaten! They’re solteties!”

The birds were indeed cakes, each tail feather an impossibly delicate piece decorated with tinted sugars the likes of which would never be seen even on the richest of Muggle tables. The birds settled into position and stopped moving, their enchantments wearing off, and the students happily set to work dismantling them. The noise level, rather than falling now that the music had been stilled, swelled as the sweetmeats imbued them all with renewed energy.

It was Ginevra Gryffindor who, on noticing her youngest, 5 year-old Gladys, curled up on her oldest brother’s lap, murmured to her husband that the festivities had gone on quite long enough. He stood, a bit flush-faced from his own imbibing, and raised his hands for silence. The dull roar quieted, but did not completely disappear. Godric waved his wand and the plates and goblets from all the tables flew suddenly upward, capturing everyone’s attention. He flicked his wand again, and the plates circled inward till they formed a neat pile levitating about two feet above table height in the center of the room. The goblets arranged themselves in a spiral going the height of the pile and then blossoming outward from the top.

“Now I have everyone’s ear,” Godric began, smiling at the students staring upward. “I trust today has been a satisfactory one.” A rousing cheer cut him off, but briefly. “I appreciate your enthusiasm and expect to see it repeated on the morrow. With that in mind, you may wish yourselves quickly to bed. The other masters and I will lead the way to your dormitories and secure them for the night. So, without further ado, let us adjourn.”

The exit from the hall was much different than it had been at noon. A pleasant drowsiness had settled on the students as the noise level lowered, leaving most of them docile and rubbing suddenly heavy eyes as the four masters wended their way to the ends of their tables. Helga led the way out of the hall, with Rowena and her house following behind, then Salazar, and Godric’s students last. Stefanus and Sarra waved farewell to Hugo and followed the rest of the Ravenclaws into the deep darkness outside. The moon was fresh, its light pale and ineffectual. Many had illuminated their wands, the pinpoints of light mimicking the stars.

“Lumos,” Sarra said, and her own wand glowed. “And tell me, Stefanus, was today everything you dreamt it would be?”  
“Well, I can assure you that none of my dreams of today included seeing a dragon,” Stefanus replied, starting to draw his wand. He paused, reluctant, and tucked it back into his robe. “But truly, I don’t think I fully comprehended what this school would entail.”

Sarra, her eyes skyward, stumbled over a dip in the ground. She caught herself without Stefanus’ reflexive reach and laughed returning her gaze to the heavens. “Nor I. It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it? I’m just a poor witch from a little village in the south. No connections, no especially powerful relatives, no way to prove myself. And yet here I am, walking not 15 feet behind Rowena Ravenclaw herself. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow so I’ll know for certain it’s not a dream. Ah, Brighid, the next few years are going to be paradise!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say paradise, precisely,” Stefanus cautioned, but Sarra cut him off.

“No more spending all my days on naught but kitchen chores and feeding sheep. No lectures about spending too much time trying to invent spells instead of using the ones I know to be productive. No worries that the Muggles might suspect. No Muggles to fear at all!”

“Have you forgotten this afternoon?”

“They won’t be back. Good riddance, say I. Why should they bother us when we don’t bother them? It’s just ignorance, anyway. Ignorance and jealousy and greed. That’s all Muggles understand.”

Sarra nearly smacked into the back of the wizard walking in front of her as he and the other around them halted suddenly. Stefanus, fighting down a defensive reply, shifted slightly away from Sarra so he could see their head of house through the people gathered around them. Rowena seemed to have magically amplified her voice, for it carried well past Stefanus and Sarra to the back of the group, but she did not seem to be shouting.

“Girls, your dormitory entrance is here, to the left,” Younger apprentices are placed in the back rooms, older nearer the door. You will find that all of your belongings are deposited on a specific bed. These doors are sealed at night and will open only in dire need, so I trust no one will have any ideas about nocturnal jaunts of any sort. Am I clear?”

There was a murmur of agreement. Rowena nodded.

“Very well, then. If you have any questions, ask one of the older apprentices first. Most likely they will have the answer for you. Witches, have a pleasant evening. Wizards, follow me. Your dormitory is just the other side of my house.”

Sarra gave Stefanus a nod good night and stepped inside the long, narrow building not much smaller than the council hall. Stefanus continued with the other Ravenclaw male students past the two-story house that the Ravenclaw family inhabited. He noticed Roderick Ravenclaw stepping out, several scrolls tucked under his arm. Rowena paused, but did not stop to speak to him. Rather, she nodded him back to the council hall and continued on her way. Stefanus couldn’t help but notice the look of concern on Roderick’s face as they passed each other. Whatever those scrolls contained, it seemed unlikely to be the morrow’s lessons. Something to do with the dragon? Something to do with the Muggles?

“Now then,” Rowena’s magically carrying voice interrupted his musings. “I trust I won’t have to repeat myself to you young men?”

 

*******

“I think it unwise to leave it be for too long,” Roderick said, leaning forward over the table. “A wounded dragon is dangerous, yes, but less so than one allowed to heal its wounds and nurture even greater hatred toward humans than it naturally possesses.”  
“But Rowena said herself that dragons aren’t meant to be here,” Helga protested. “Why must we antagonize the beast and risk actual injury to one of ours? It must have been lost.”

The four masters and those of their families old enough to be part of the discussion were seated at the end of the table that Gryffindor’s students had claimed at the meal, the one just to the right of the doorway. Roderick had provided a map from the Ravenclaw library, and they were exploring possible locations for the beast.

“Lost or not, it will be a danger to us until it’s destroyed,” Ginevra spoke up. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with so many little ones about and a dragon attack hanging over our heads.”

“And there are the Muggles to consider,” Constance said.

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to her. Salazar’s lip curled ever so slightly, but his voice was perfectly cordial as he spoke.

“What do we need to consider about them? We’ve set up enchantments to misdirect them, should they try to disturb us again.”

“I wasn’t thinking of them disturbing us,” Constance countered. “But they fear dragons more than we do, and fear can make people stupidly brave.”

The younger Godric started forward in protest. “They wouldn’t try to go after that thing on their own. Eleven of their own men have no memory of it. They’ll have a hard enough time convincing themselves it wasn’t just an illusion as it is. They needn’t factor into this discussion.”

“I disagree,” Constance said calmly.

Godric set his jaw and looked to his father for support. Godric Sr. rapped his knuckles on the table as he considered how to answer, the motion twitchy and arrhythmic.

“I’d rest better at night knowing we’d dispatched the beast,” he said finally.

“It’s a Black of the Hebrides,” Rowena reminded. “Their numbers have been shrinking all our lifetime. It’s one of the few breeds I have yet to physically examine. Will it be possible for me to do so after you’ve dispatched it?”

“If it consents to go quietly, I should imagine so,” Godric said.

Helga scoffed. “And who, pray tell, will you send to convince the dragon to do that?”

Jasper murmured something to her, his voice pitched low enough that no one else heard. The rest of the group looked at him expectantly. Constance shared a look with her brother. Jasper Sr., even after the years of close interaction with the other three families, had yet to lose the aversion to speaking out that a less understanding person might characterize as fear. Helga nodded for him to repeat himself. Constance, averting her eyes in commiseration and perhaps a mote of her own embarrassment, caught Salazar’s sneer and Sylvia’s delicate eyebrow raise. Constance’s shoulders squared. Salazar had always made his opinion of Jasper Hufflepuff perfectly clear. He no longer went out of his way to avoid him, but it was never in any doubt that, to Salazar, Jasper was no better than the Muggles he so despised.

“It seems like poor judgement to send a party such as you would need from the grounds so soon after the school has opened,” Jasper said, his voice still quiet, his left hand clenched into a fist on the table. “Would it not be more prudent to wait, at least till the end of the week?”

Rowena nodded. “That seems an acceptable compromise. I’d be loathe to leave my students so immediately.”

Constance could feel Helena’s withheld sigh of frustration from across the table, but refused to make eye contact. There were at present more pressing concerns than her friend’s irritation with her mother.

“Don’t give it too long, or its wounds will heal,” Ginevra reminded. “I would not delay more than three days.”

“I don’t see the point in delaying at all,” Salazar said, surprising the rest of the group. He was not the one with the reputation for rushing into things. “We are all in agreement the beast must die -” Helga made an irritated sound, and he nodded in her direction “ - excepting Helga, we are all in agreement. It is weakest now. It will be harder to track the more of a headstart we allow it. The simplest option is to pursue immediately.”

“I agree,” Constance said, steadfastly refusing to look in her parents’ direction. She hated to stand against her mother, especially in front of the other masters. But neither of her parents could argue with her root point - it would be safer for the Muggles if the dragon was dispatched sooner rather than later.

Rowena considered, glancing between Helga and Salazar, then looked to Godric. “A compromise. We do nothing for two days, allow the students to settle into a routine. We can discuss again at that time, and either send a party into the mountains or wait for the dragon to make itself known.”

The red-bearded man considered, drumming his knuckles on the table twice more. “A fair bargain. No need to upset the students - nor to encourage any of them to go questing themselves.”

Helga, despite her tight jaw, managed a smile. “What’s this, Godric? You’re encouraging students not to rush off on hare-brained quests? Should I test for some sort of hex?”

There was a general burst of laughter. Godric took it in good grace.

“I’ll allow you to consider it a benefit of your influence if you like,” he said, stretching and muffling a yawn. “Or perhaps it’s just that I’m not as young as I once was.”

Ginevra stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Oh yes, my dear, you're positively ancient. Now come along before your hair turns white and you need a staff to walk."

The group disbanded, each heading for their respective houses. There was a faint hum of sound coming from the dormitories by Gryffindor's house, but the rest seemed to have settled down easily for their first night. The four Hufflepuffs made the walk back to their house in silence. Constance was very aware of the space present between her parents and herself. Her brother, looking almost guilty, kept his distance from all three of them, charging ahead to reach the door first and enter. Helga made a gesture to remind him to be quiet, as the younger ones were already asleep. He nodded and slipped inside. Constance stopped a few paces from the door and paused to look up at the sky, admiring the constellations so clearly visible with the moon's light so dim. Jasper released Helga's hand and followed his son inside. Helga came to stand beside Constance, still keeping a foot or so of distance, not crowding or aggressive. She sighed and looked heavenward.

"Hu Gadarn is bright tonight. A good omen for the start of such an undertaking."

Constance made a noise of agreement in her throat, choking back the observation that the season was right for Hu Gadarn to be visible and they could have foretold his path across the sky tonight would be bright with very little need for magical skill at all. They stood in silence for several long moments. Constance wondered if this would be the final straw, the one thing that would force her mother to speak her regret in allowing her firstborn to study under a different master.

"Mother, I -"

Helga smiled and turned to face her daughter. "I know why you did it. And I'm pleased to see you using that brilliant mind of yours so well."

These were familiar words. Words Constance didn't always trust. Her mother had a habit of forcing herself to be generous about things she found frustrating. It was the only way she'd agreed to be a part of the school with Salazar, Constance was certain. But she smiled back, a habit of her own, cultivated similarly.

"I'm glad you're not angry with me."


	8. Chapter 8

The horizon was smudged with dawn’s first hesitant strokes. Sylvia had insisted, when their temporary home was built, that it have a window facing east, elevated so the charcoal fade was visible past the dark loch. What did it matter that their home was large enough to be confused with the foundations laid for the actual castle? If she was to be forced into a dwelling of wood and thatching instead of ancient stones, she had least had a place suitable to raise her son, despite the wilds to which they had been dragged. She had her home, she had her grey dawn, and she had -

“Sylvia.” His right hand slid across the small of her back and settled possessively on her hip. His voice was gravelly with sleep.

She leaned back against him reflexively, keeping her eyes on the spreading light. Since the days of their courtship, this time had been theirs. But she had not thought to see him today.

“Salazar.”

He seemed to be waiting for more. She inclined her head slightly, but kept her silence.

“Rain today.” He had seen the bank of darkness to the north.

“Mm.”

His other hand found her left hip and his cheek her temple. The first hints of orange leaked into the horizon as the grey saturated further up the sky. She kept herself still against him. His chin tilted back in inquiry, but she gave him no reply.

“What is it, my treasure?”

She rolled her left shoulder. “Caedryn will be up soon. And you will have apprentices to wake.”

He shifted to the side, leaning against the window frame and try to catch her eye. “And they can all wait. What is it?”

She had not expected concern. Of all the responses Salazar could make, concern had long since faded from her list. She could tell him. But they were both too proud to be honest with each other save on the rarest of occasions. Their conversations were feints and parries, avoiding the vital parts till one of them was unwary enough to be blunt. Still - his black eyes seemed genuinely interested. She hadn’t seen him look so since… well, it had to have been several dead children ago that he had looked at her with that level of tenderness. Not that she wanted it of him. Since their move to the northern wilds, the defensiveness tightening her chest had become habitual. Her tongue framed complaints that had become as familiar as breathing.

“What a place you’ve brought us to, Salazar,” she said, staring past his hear. “From our home and family to a muddy hollow within hailing distance of Muggles and with a house barely worthy of the word -”

“But the school -”

“Is more important to you than aught else.” She truly had not intended the bitterness that flowed into the words with her chosen feint, but she did not apologize for it. That was not something expected between them.

Salazar reacted as she knew he would, leaning back as if she had drawn her wand on him, face closing.

“My legacy is more important to me than aught else, you are right.”

Old wounds. They seemed incapable of avoiding them when they were alone, even if they both made an effort. It was rare they tried for long. Sylvia raised her chin and lowered her shoulders, bristling.

“Your legacy of teaching the whelps of any Mudblood or Muggle who steals a wand?”

“Not so in my house and well you know it.”

“And how long before you cave to Godric’s persuasions or the strictures of the mudblood-lover?”

“You have a low opinion of my resolve.”

“The words come from your mouth, not mine.”

She let her gaze pass over him and back to the sky. It was no longer a unity of color. Pink and orange were encroaching on the charcoal, making garish streaks across the horizon. It no longer pleased. She turned away toward the door.

Salazar had taken his commanding stance behind her. She could feel the shift in the air.

“I will not tolerate talk such of this outside of this house, Sylvia. You are here to be a helpmeet to me, not spread your discontent to others.”

She pursed her lips and turned her head only slightly to answer. “To whom would I speak outside of this house?”

He released a low growl of frustration and brushed past her to leave the chamber, as she had known he would. She did not move until his echoing footsteps placed him well down the stairs. Her fingers splayed across her belly defensively. Now was not the right time to speak. Not when there had been so many disappointments. Not when so many times the joy had turned to tears, and not when Salazar was so determined to doubt her. Later. There would be time enough when the school had gotten off the ground smoothly, when Salazar no longer viewed her homesickness as a threat. There would be time enough when she was sure.

 

The second day of instruction went less smoothly than the first. There were younglings unused to waking far away from family and those who had reached the age where a flock of angry augurey could not rouse them from slumber. The older apprentices from each house swept through the dormitories to shoo their new fellows to breakfast, appearing in the council hall well after the meal had begun, herding the most recalcitrant among them.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, there had been five wands broken, seven accidental fires and several dozen students who were cut, scraped, bleeding, or otherwise bore the marks of training gone awry. The rain was still threatening, leaving the air heavy and the sky sullen, with unbearably bright patches where the clouds were thin enough to let the noonday light through.

Jasper Hufflepuff had been recruited to assist his mother’s students with repairing robes singed in a shield charm gone awry just as the session broke for a noon repast.

“There, Cerdic, good as ever it was.”

He smiled at the black-haired lad whose sleeve had been scorched. He was a scrap of a boy who seemed to expect some sort of dreadful punishment now the immediate danger had passed. His eyes seemed to take up more than half the space that properly ought to have been his forehead, leaving the skin above them bunched into deeply concerned lines.

“Now get along with the others and next time don’t think about dragons when you try that spell.”

Cerdic’s eyes widened further, a feat in Jasper’s estimation. He grinned persistently till, ever so hesitantly, the boy’s mouth tipped upward.

“How did you know?”

“It’s the way of magic, lad. Your wand acts on the dictates of your thoughts, not always your words. Now go on before all your rest time is used up.”

The boy dashed off to join his fellow students, and Jasper turned to find his next project. No other students presented themselves, so he trekked across the green toward the council hall. Insects buzzed about, attracted to the sheen of sweat drawn out by the heavy air. He swatted at them in annoyance, angling out of the path of a particularly large creature with a stinger. The storm could not arrive quickly enough.  He’d all but decided to head to the lake for a chance to escape the oppressive air when he spotted his mother in conversation with Rowena Ravenclaw and the younger Godric to the south of the hall, near the center of the commons.

“You’re certain these two cannot be mended?” Godric was asking as Jasper joined them, holding out the splintered remains of two wands.

“I’m certain that none of us has the skills with which to mend them,” Rowena replied, her voice edged with irritation. “If Lemuel had stayed rather than setting up his own shop in the south, he could have them sorted in a trice.”

“You encouraged him to do so,” Helga said, holding out her hand in what would seem like an impatient gesture only to those who knew her well. “You may recall my concerns about our last wandmaker leaving us just as the school was about to -”

“Very well, Helga, spare me your lectures and help me think. Where is the nearest wandmaker?”

“There’s Drustan in Orkney. He’d be a day’s journey with a hearty beast beneath you. If one of us goes, we could most likely apparate, but I wouldn’t trust an apprentice to try that distance.”

Rowena nodded. “And at Scarborough, there’s Taranisa, but I don’t care to give her my business after the matter with the bowtruckle massacre.”

“How far south did Lemuel go?” Godric asked, sending a half-smile at Jasper.There had been little question in either’s mind that Rowena would eventually come back to her former pupil.

“In Hampshire, not 12 leagues from the court of King Edgar,” Rowena replied.

“Too far,” Helga objected instantaneously. “Even if we apparated it would take a full day, and some sort of more reliable transport would be needed to actually find Lemuel’s shop.”

“My mother’s thestrals could make the journey,” Godric offered. “She’s been training them to accept riders.”

“I still have my carpet from the Orient. It would be better suited to the journey than a half-trained wild animal,” Rowena said, tapping the splintered pine wand in her hand.

“And what, may I ask, is so very wrong with using a wandmaker who is not as far from us as is possible to get without crossing salt water?”

“Nothing, except that we should provide the very best we can for those under our tutelage.”

“Yes, and would that not include all four of us being here to provide that tutelage?”

“Oughtn’t the students have some say in who goes meddling with their wands?” Jasper interjected.

“So you suggest that we leave it to mere children of nine or ten to decide what’s to be done with the most important thing they will ever possess?” Rowena asked, arching a dark eyebrow first at Jasper, then at Helga.

“He has a point,” Helga said staunchly, nodding at her son. “They should at least be made aware, don’t you think?”

“Will that cause this decision to be even longer in the making?” Godric asked. He’d stopped swatting at the midges and was instead drawing complex figures in the air with his wand, leaving a trail of dark, pungent smoke that seemed to be sending the little creatures swarming elsewhere. The smoke was making an intricate, if erratic, barrier around Godric, a sort of trailing shield.

“Have you other responsibilities you’re anxious to be off to, Godric?” Rowena countered.

“Quite the reverse,” Godric said, grinning.

Helga had opened her mouth to respond, but a fat raindrop tore a gap in Godric’s smoke shield, arresting everyone’s attention. More drops followed, heavy and cold on the skin in the thick air. The clouds took only a moment more to open entirely. Helga raised her wand to provide cover, but the two boys glanced at each other and ducked out from under the enchantment, racing each other to the council hall door. The women followed at a more sedate pace, sheltered from the downpour by the arcing shield Helga cast above them.

“Does this affect any afternoon lessons?” Helga asked.

Rowena cast her eyes upward in thought. “Roderick had planned on taking some of the older apprentices on an expedition to identify useful plants in the forest, but I’ve no doubt he can make other arrangements. Were you planning any excursions with your new ones?”

“I’d thought to have them work on levitating objects here on the commons where there’s less chance of destruction if the spells go awry. But it can be done indoors as well as out.”

“I might take some of the advanced ones and have them practice their weather charms, while we have something to combat.” Rowena mused as they entered the hall.

Godric and Jasper stood just within, casting drying spells on their robes and still laughing. A fair number of the apprentices were already gathered, holding hunks of bread and cheese or handfuls of berries given them. Constance and Ginevra were supervising the pitchers of pumpkin juice pouring themselves into various students’ cups.

“I expect Godric kept his students at their exercises despite the rain,” Rowena said, glancing out the window toward the Gryffindor house.

“And why not?” rejoined the younger Godric. “A wizard who has to retire because of a little water is no wizard at all.”

“Then why aren’t you still out in it?” Jasper asked, grinning at his friend from under still-dripping locks.

“I fancied some pumpkin juice.” Godric conjured a goblet and snagged a pitcher as it floated past.

“And the other groups?” Rowena asked, pointedly ignoring them. “Salazar, Helena, Roderick - none of their pupils are here.”

“Helena was to be listening to oral recitations of potion preparations - her students may still be at it. Salazar was working with some of the older apprentices on creating spells - I expect he’s still in his house with them. Roderick -”

Jasper’s recitation was interrupted when the door banged open and two children scurried in, drenched to the skin and babbling in such high-pitched, excited tones that no words were intelligible. Helga hurried toward them, wand out, but Godric snorted.

“Caedryn’s got himself caught out in the rain. Poor little princeling. He’ll probably have to be excused from lessons for the rest of the week.”

“Godric,” Jasper’s reproof was instinctive and lacked any sort of conviction behind it.

“The muggles!”

The exclamation from Caedryn drew the attention of most of the room. Helga paused in the midst of casting the drying spell, leaving Caedryn’s left sleeve and most of his hair still soaked. Rowena swiveled toward him, contemplating how to respond. The boy who was with him, a short, stocky blond who was quite clearly still cowed in the presence of the Masters,pushed a dripping lock of hair off his nose and back against his head, and gulped.

“The muggles are going to attack.”

“When? Where?” Rowena had found her questions.

“Not for days and days,” Caedryn reported, taking charge from his companion. “They’ve decided to send riders to King Edgar. They want him to send an army!”

 


End file.
